


Forrests Edge

by richthebich



Category: Originalstory - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, LGBTQ, M/M, OC, OCs - Freeform, Transmasc, autumncourt, fae, faeboy, faecourt, fantasyoc, lgbtqfantasy, originalwork - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richthebich/pseuds/richthebich
Summary: Sampson hasn't lived with his grandparents in just under ten years.With the death of his father and the sickness of his mother, the welcome back was nothing but bittersweet. The return of old dreams hasn't made anything better, either, yet it only raised more questions than could be answered.And a boy in the woods might've made things a lot more complicated, or perhaps a lot more interesting.Either way, the woods of Shrewsbury were definitely a mysterious place to live.❦•songs, lyrics, or pictures used do not belong to me, full credit to the artists••most drawn art will be mine••characters do not belong to me, all credit goes to @bubble.gum.boy on tiktok••⚠️rated mature for possible swearing, use of alcohol, mature jokes, mentions of sex, mature themes, unsafe binding, death, and mentions of sickness⚠️•❦{ YES I DO REALIZE THAT SOMEONE HAS ALREADY STARTED WRITING A STORY BASED OFF OF THESE TIKTOKS BUT I WAS INSPIRED TO WRITE ONE ASWELL AND MOST OF IT FROM THE START IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE TIKTOKS AND THIS PERSON PLEASE GO READ THEIR WORK ITS CALLED SOUP SPOON AND ITS AMAZING K JUST CLARIFYING SO I HOPEFULLY DONT GET ATTACKED LMAO }
Relationships: OCxOC, mlm - Relationship, wlw - Relationship





	1. a silver "egg"

**Author's Note:**

> TW: unsafe binding!! please stay safe and never use bandages and/or ducked tape or anything like that to bind!!!!

* * *

## Chapter 1

### | a silver "egg"|

Tuesday, November, 1862

❦

Sampson would never get used to his grandparents house.

That was a given, since he hadn't lived there for over ten years, but truly he wasn't even used to it then.

It wasn't like his old home in the city, with nice wood floors and not a thing out of place. The farmhouse was messy and unorganized, with creaky floorboards and old rooms and he would probably be living there the rest of his young life. 

And when I say big, I mean big. In his old home, there were only three rooms, two of which were the size of a large closet and could only fit a double bed and a dresser at most, and with Sampson, his three other siblings, and parents, it wasn't the most ideal situation.

Now, the room he shared with his older brother was huge compared to what he was used to. It didn't feel so stuffy and there was even enough room to put a desk at the end of his bed.

The only thing that really stayed the same was his older sister waking him up in the morning.

"Wake up you dalcops , you've already slept in long enough." Laurel said from the doorway loud enough to stir Sampson awake.

Ambrose, Sampson's older brother, groaned into his pillow on the twin sized bed across the room. "Ugh, but we woke up yesterday," 

Sampson turned over and opened his eyes to see Laurel scowling at her twin.

"Oh, quit it with that!" She said and Ambrose laughed.

She hit him in the face with the towel over her shoulder before huffing and leaving the room.

Sitting up – reluctantly – and stretching, Sampson tried to remember the dream he had. It was one that he had had many times before, only not for a very long time. The last time he did have it was when he was six, after they stopped visiting his grandparents.

He had been running through the woods, from what, he didn't know. It was the same woods as his old dreams, with tall trees that seemed to go up and on for miles, the roof of the leaves blocking out all light so only little sunbeams shown through in places. It would've all been beautiful if twigs and bramble hadn't been hitting him in the face every five seconds. 

Though it was easier to run considering the dream had changed his appearance to what he looked like now. No longer with long hair or a dress that would get caught on things.

And then he tripped.

Sampson had expected to hit the ground, that was how the dream went. He was running and he would fall, then the thing that was chasing him would catch up, and then he would wake.

But Sampson didn't hit the ground.

"Hey are you okay?" 

He would look up, and his eyes would meet someone else's. Brown, like the bark of a tree. There was nothing really...special about them, yet they seemed so familiar, though Sampson wasn't sure where he had seen them before.

"You alright??" Ambrose asked, breaking Sampson out of his thoughts.

"Y-yeah." He stammered. "Yeah, I'm fine."

His brother looked at him funny for a moment before shrugging, shuffling through his dresser drawers before grabbing a set of clothes and leaving the room.

Once he left, Sampson sat up grabbing the bandages from his side table and some clothes from his drawer.

Wrapping the bandages around his chest, he made sure they were tight enough as to not be uncomfortable before looping the end around the inside and getting dressed in a brown corduroy collared shirt, white woollen vest, plaid pants that cuffed just bellow his knees that held up by suspenders under his vest, and grey ankle socks.

Clambering down the wooden steps, Sampson made his way downstairs and to the kitchen where Laurel and their younger sister, Annalise, were making breakfast.

Setting the plates down, everyone eventually had sat down for breakfast.

"You're going to choke." Annalise said to Sampson as he shovelled food in his mouth as fast as possible.

"Fuck off." He said with his mouth full, causing both his grandmother and Laurel to slap him in the back of the head.

Then he did choke on his food.

Completely by accident, of course. He blames it on them for hitting him and taking him by surprise.

Snatching his glass of water from off the table, Sampson chugged it and coughed before glaring at his sister and grandmother.

Both Laurel and Ambrose laughed and Annalise giggled. He tried to glare harder.

Once he finished, Sampson brought his plate to the sink to rinse it off. He stood and his grandfather followed, placing his plate in the sink as well.

"Gather the eggs from the chicken coop before you head off to school." He said.

Sampson internally groaned. "Why can't Ambrose do it??" 

"Because he's chopping the fire wood."

Sampson heard his brother groan from the table.

His grandfather laughed, ruffling his grandsons hair before sitting back down with his family.

Once Sampson was finished with the dishes, he rushed upstairs to grab his bag and coat before heading out the back door, putting his boots and hat on and heading for the chicken coop.

There were few chickens on the farm, so the coop didn't take as much space. It was so small, in fact, that you had to reach your hand through the door and shift around with the risk of being attacked by overprotective mother hens.

Reaching a hand into the threshold of the coop, Sampson grappled for eggs as his hands were bitten a bruised by the chickens. Soon enough, he counted that he had picked out five nests with one left to go.

"Just- a little- farther-" He strained, hissing as the mother hen squawked and pecked at his fingers in defiance.

Sampson cheered when he gripped something from the nest, only to become quite confused as it was so small and cold in his hand.

Pulling his hand out of the coop, he stared at the silver ring sat in his palm. Carved with beautiful branch like designs and embedded with small white gems, with a larger emerald in the middle.

It looked like it costed a fortune, more than the entire house was worth at least.

Pocketing the ring, Sampson made his way to the farm house with both hands full of eggs, because - like a fool - he forgot to bring a basket.

Placing the eggs in the straw basket on the porch, he tried to sneak on his knees through the door to grab his bag.

"Oh, no you don't," Laurel said from above him, making him freeze, looking up slowly with a guilty smile.

She grabbed Sampson by the collar of his coat, hoisting him up to his feet. Placing both hands on his shoulders and slightly bending down to his level.

"Be safe." She said, an almost sorrowful look taking over her face. "Don't take any detours, don't talk to strangers, and at least try not get into trouble."

Sampson grinned. "No promises,"

"I said try for a reason, dick." Laurel laughed. "But seriously stay safe or I'll kick your arse."

Still smiling, Sampson brushed her hands off his shoulders, waving behind him as he made his way back out the door - bag in hand - and left the farm, walking towards town.

The path to the small town of Shrewsbury was through the woods, a worn dirt road about two meters wide tracked with footprints in the dried mud. No one had seemed to tend to the trail, for patches of moss, mushrooms, and tree roots had grown over it, as well as fallen logs that you had to jump over or climb under, and plenty of small streams.

You could trip or fall at any time, which, conveniently, was what Sampson had just witnessed.

"Hey!" He hollered, jogging over to the person who had just fell a little ways up the path. "Are you okay!?"

They looked up at him, startled.

And they had brown eyes. Familiar brown eyes.


	2. the boy

## Chapter 2

### | the boy |

Tuesday, November, 1862

❦

"I'm fine," The boy said, brushing himself off as Sampson stared blankly at him.

The boy looked wild, with brown hair that looked like it hadn't been combed in years and bare feet. He was taller than Sampson, about half a head, and his overalls seemed to be short for him. cutting off way higher than they should, and one of the buttons undone over his shoulder. Under, he wore a green collared shirt and a thin brown jacket was the only thing keeping him warm, besides from the mushroom beanie atop his head. He was adorned with jewelry, necklaces around his neck and rings on his fingers. What irked Sampson the most was his earrings, only pirates and bandits wore earrings.

Sampson hugged his bag closer to his body. "That's good." They both stood there for a few moments. "Well...have a nice day."

He walked away, though the boy followed.

"Can I have your name?" He asked.

Sampson looked at him like he was crazy. "No, of course not! Didn't you mother ever tell you not to give your name to strangers? They could be pirates, or bandits, or fae–"

He cut himself off, seeing how the boys face went slack and slightly angered.

"....But you can call me Sampson."

The boy glanced at him. "Lovely,"

"What? my name or the fact that I gave it to you??"

He glared harder than Sampson's sister ever could. 

The boy took out a spoon, a soup spoon, out of his pocket, looking at his reflection.

Sampson furrowed his eyebrows. "What're you doing?" 

"Looking,"

"Why?"

"I like my reflection."

Fair enough, Sampson shrugged it off. Definitely not the weirdest thing a boy in the woods could do.

Silence filled the air before the boy spoke again.

"I lost my ring this morning." He said, fiddling with the ones currently on his fingers.

Sampson was then reminded of something. "Oh! I found a ring." He took it out of his pocket, handing it to the boy. "Is it yours?"

Looking at the ring, the boy grinned. "Yes," He glanced down at Sampson, tossing it back, "Keep it."

Fumbling to catch it, he was going to thank the boy. But he had disappeared when he looked back up.

He didn't even know his name.

❦

The town was quite small, but very busy. With mothers running through market stalls with small children and people rushing to jobs in automobiles or trying to avoid them. 

The tiny white schoolhouse took almost nothing apart from the town, between two small buildings, a coffeehouse and a library, and seemed only big enough to hold one room.

Trying as silently as he could, Sampson opened the door and walked in, only to see he was late, as everyone was already starting to sit down and the teacher was writing on the black board.

The teacher – a woman in a long white skirt and brown tweed jacket, her hair tied in a loose bun – glanced at him quickly, before double taking.

"You must be the new student!" She said, her voice shrill. "Call me Mrs. Brandons."

Mrs. Bradons shook Sampson's hand as he spoke. "Sampson." He introduced himself. "It's very nice to meet you, ma'am."

"You as well, Sampson," She pointed to a chair in the sixth row, where kids all around his age sat.

Nodding, Sampson made his way over to the chair, suddenly nervous. Was everyone watching him, or was that just his imagination?

Placing his book bag down, he fiddled with a charcoal pencil until the boy beside him tapped his shoulder.

"I'm Will," He smiled. He had black hair and glasses, and his eyes were blue. 

"Sampson."

❦

Will's friend was nothing like Will himself, and they seemed odd next to eachother. While Will was loud, his friend Nox was quiet and spoke in almost soft whispers instead of a booming voice. It was a nice contrast, if not a strange one.

"Did you just move here?" Will asked through a mouthful of food. "I don't think I've ever seen you around before." 

Sampson shrugged. "I moved in with my grandparents on their farm, just along a path in the woods."

"You live in the woods?" Nox spoke, picking at an apple. "Mother never lets me go in there, says there's Faerie." 

Sampson decided not to mention the boy, though it had crossed his mind.

"Yeah, well, your mom sucks," Will laughed.

"Whatever. Like your mother lets you go in the woods, too." 

Will glared, stuffing his sandwich in his mouth while grumbling curse words.

Sampson crossed his legs on the bench. "I'll have to ask my sister, but maybe you guys could walk with me home or something." He shrugged. "There's a lot of paths in the woods, maybe one leads to your house."

It wasn't set in stone, so they let the proposition hang in the air while they talked about other things.

The boy wasn't on the path when Sampson walked back home that day, though he felt eyes watching him, but he didn't dare look back.


	3. iron rings and honey

## Chapter 3

### | iron rings and honey |

Friday, November , 1862

❦

It had been several days since Sampson had seen the boy, and he was sure he was the same person from his dream.

The eyes were a sure giveaway, as Sampson was never quite sure he had seen them before, though they were nothing too great, only that he couldn't remember what they exactly looked like every time he woke up. It was always a hazy blur, and a familiar feeling that they were the same ones.

Another giveaway was that every night the dream would be different. Sampson was maybe able to see the brim of the boys crocheted hat one night, and then the next a glimpse of his bare feet, unscathed and clean as if he hadn't been walking in the woods. Or perhaps Sampson would notice the coldness of his voice, and how it sounded like the roar of a waterfall, and how it didn't sound from anywhere at all. More of a mix of accents than anything. It was thick Irish while also being heavily American, and a hint of Greek?? Sampson wasn't sure.

It seemed strange though, how this boy was plaguing his mind in both states, while awake and sleeping. Sampson didn't even want to leave the house without the ring the boy had given him, always keeping it around his neck on a thin leather band. 

And on a not so eventful morning, as he looked for his pencil he left somewhere the evening before, shuffling through the drawers of his bed side table, he came across a ring. An iron ring, with a large front carved with long pointed swords.

Sampson smiled, before pocketing it.

He eventually found his pencil - thank god - and left his room quickly, shoving things in his bag as he rushed down the stairs, begging himself not to look down the hall to the door on left.

❦

The boy wasn't in the woods when Sampson had left to town that day, or when he walked back home from the school house. He only showed up when he was walking back from the town the second time that day, from dropping off a cart of wood logs for an old woman who seemed to be preparing for the upcoming winter. Sampson himself had noticed the temperature dropping, and regretfully became reluctant to offer to go to town in hopes he would see the boy.

At this point, Sampson was fed up. Had the boy been apart of his imagination? A hallucinations he conjured up to explain the dreams he was having?? Could it be a curse??? He hoped it wasn't a curse.

A warm tingle went up his spine - like tiny little ghosts decided to have a rave in his nervous system - that made him shiver and goosebumps rise on his arms.

He dropped the handle of the old, rusted red wagon, looking right back at the stares.

Sampson had been feeling them for awhile, but he didn't dare look back, just another reason for him to think he's cursed.

But he looked back this time, right into the bramble of a large bush, just enough to fit, say, someone the boy's size if they were crouching.

Making a start towards the bush, Sampson separated the branches as fast as he could, making an opening to the inside. "Ha!" He laughed.

But he wasn't there.

Frowning, Sampson realized the idea of the boy watching him was kind of stupid. He was most likely just going crazy and the boy didn't exist in the first place and-

"Why are you staring at a bush?"

Sampson jumped, spinning around and almost slapping whoever was behind him. When he realized it was the boy, he refrained from it, but still considered it.

"Hello to you too," Sampson huffed, dusting off his hands before walking back to the wagon.

The boy followed him. "Well you seem cheerful today,"

"So do you." 

Sampson had noticed the boy's odd behaviour. No longer stand offish, but carefree and relaxed.

He shrugged. "The suns out today, I like the autumn breeze. And I got gifts." The boy held up his hand, showing off the new, shiny rings that adorned it.

"Oh!" Sampson stopped, shuffling around in his pockets. "That reminds me,"

The boy hummed as he pulled out the ring, though he didn't look up.

"I got you a present!" Sampson took his hand, placing the ring in his palm and smiling.

As fast as lightning, the boy dropped the ring, hissing and cursing as smoke fled from a burn wound where the ring had been.

"What is that?!" He shook his hand, like that would help the pain.

"An- an iron ring," Sampson stuttered, examining the boy's hand, "What happened?? Are you okay-"

"I'm fine!" He yelped, pulling his hand back. "I'm just...allergic. Yeah. I'm allergic to iron."

Sampson furrowed his eyebrows. "...Are you sure you'll be okay?"

He didn't know why he cared, but he was normally a caring person - so he'd been told - and decided not to dwell on it.

"I said I'll be fine. I'll just have to put some dirt on it and-"

"Dirt?!" Sampson screeched. "No, it'll get infected. Just- come to my place, we have honey there, we can put it on the wound. I promise,"

"No, I can't. I'm fine-" The boy paused. "Did you say honey?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it takes out the heat."

The boy grinned. "Then what are we waiting for? Lead the way, Sampson!" 

Sampson was surprised that he remembered his name, as he hadn't expected he would. But he shook it off, grabbed the wagon, and led the boy back to the farm.

❦

Sneaking him to the barn was easier than Sampson had thought. The cellar was inside the decaying building, under a latch in the floor that you had to jump down to get to the stairs, and climb up to get back outside.

And the cellar was big, bigger than the farm itself. But of course it would be, it was where they held all the stock. Shelves full of wine and jars of home made sauces and jams. Bags of potatoes and wheat stacked beside barrels of beer.

Conveniently, the cellar also held most of their medical supplies, as well as jars upon jars of honey.

Taking the things he needed, Sampson sat the boy down on a wooden crate, taking the honey dipper from the jar and trying to place not too much on the boy's burn.

He didn't know why his hands were shaking, but maybe it was just nerves. But he wasn't usually nervous? He didn't know.

Sampson took out a wad of cotton from the pile of medical supplies, spreading it on the honey covered wound before wrapping it up with bandages, using the same technique he does every morning.

"That should be good," He said, placing the stuff in a separate crate, "I'm really sorry, though, I didn't know you were allergic- What the fuck are you doing??"

He had looked up at the boy, who had the honey dipper in his mouth, which Sampson had previously placed back in the jar.

The boy just stared at him, like a deer caught at the tip of ones arrow.

After a while of staring, and a weight on the back of Sampson's head growing heavier, he hesitantly snatched the dipper, pulling a face.

And then he wiped it on the boy's coat, because it's his spit and he has to fucking deal with it.

"Hey!" He screeched, snatching his coat away, which was so thin it might have been see-through.

Sampson put the dipper back in the jar, again. "You can't eat all the supplies, idiot. We're not even supposed to be down here." 

The boy retaliated by blowing a raspberry, grabbing the dipper, and shoving it in his mouth....again.

Sampson lunged to grab it, but the boy moved his head away, and when he was almost able to grab it, he stood up. Unfortunately, the boy was much taller than Sampson was.

"Oh, you little-" But he was cut off.

"Sampson?!" His grandfather called from the latched door, seemingly struggling to climb down. "Who's down there with you??"

Sampson froze, panicked. Oh shit.

"Take out your earrings!" He hissed, finally snatching the honey dipper from the boy's hand and sealing the jar, placing it back on the shelf.

The boy raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because if my grandpa sees you with them he will think you are a bandit trying to kill me!" 

"Oh,"

Thankfully, he took out his earrings, and made an effort to act natural.

"Sampson, there you are," His grandfather hobbled towards them from the stairs. He still refused to use a cain, even with his bad leg, "I thought you'd had a friend down here."

His face felt warm as he smiled. "Yeah, um- Papa this is..." 

Sampson trailed off. How was he supposed to introduce someone he didn't even know the name of?

"Drest." The boy said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Drest?

His grandpa shook Drest's hand, eyeing the two of them. "...What were you two doing down here alone?"

Sampson' face heated even more - somehow. "Nothing!" He shrieked, a little to high pitched. "D-Drest just had an allergic reaction to something so-"

Papa ruffled his hair, laughing. "I'm pullin' your leg, kid. Now invite your friend here into the house, your Nan just made cookies."

And he left up the stairs.

After an awkward break of silence, Drest spoke.

"Your grandfather seems nice," He fiddled with a ring on his finger. It had the shape of intertwined oak leaves.

Sampson shuffled his feet. "Yeah, I guess..." He paused. "Your name is Drest??"

He hummed. "Of course. Did I not tell you?"

"No,"

"Shame." Drest shrugged. "You want to go steal those cookies,"

"From my siblings?" Sampson grinned. "Absolutely,"

❦

After taking at least half the cookies from the pan, Sampson dragged Drest up the stairs to his room, hoping his brother wasn't there and his sister wouldn't catch them.

Laurel had become more protective of Sampson since they moved back. Of course, she was protective of all her family, as - technically - the oldest, as she was born about 10 seconds before Ambrose was.

Maybe it was the death of their father, or the sickness of their mom, but she had been even reluctant to let him go to school that year. He had never been to public school, he had only ever learned in the comfort of his home by his parents, he had even switched. Learning with his sisters by his mom, to learning with his brother and father.

He didn't want her to know he broke her first rule; Don't talk to strangers, especially in the woods.

But thankfully, Ambrose wasn't in the room, and Laurel seemed to be helping Nan with the horses.

"Mi casa es tu casa," Sampson said, a greeting his father used to say.

Drest looked around his room, at the loose papers hung above Sampson's desk, to the bed he forgot to make that morning.

Sampson flushed. "S-Sorry it's a mess, I wasn't really expected people over." He rushed to make his bed and organize the books scattered on his desk.

"It's alright," Drest muttered, nibbling on one of the cookies.

Sampson was wondering how to hang out with someone in your own house - which he had never done in his entire bloody life - when footsteps came stomping towards his door.

He tensed up. "Papa is such a fucking snitch." He cursed.

Drest frowned. "Huh?"

"You have to leave," Sampson didn't know how he would, but he was desperate. "My sister is-"

He whipped around, a tight smile forcing his face that made his cheeks hurt within seconds.

"Heeeyyyy Laurel..." He greeted, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

She put her hands on her hips, which was never good, and glared. "Papa told me you had a friend over -" She glanced around the room - "...Where are they?"

Sampson knit his eyebrows, turning around.

The window was wide open, a cool autumn breeze filling the room. On the sill there was placed a half eaten cookie, and Drest was no where to be found.


	4. the priests son

## Chapter 4

### | the priests son |

Saturday, November , 1862

❦

The town of Shrewsbury was smaller than Sampson had remembered, but just as chaotic.

With people running around, through markets and buildings and across dirt roads and stone paths, all kept in one small space, everything was definitely more claustrophobic that most people would enjoy.

But it was the place where Sampson would hold his father's hand the bustling roads, and where his mother would laugh if he gripped onto her leg like a monkey. And now it was where he laughed with his friends.

And not a lot had changed since Sampson had been there last, unsurprisingly. 

They sat down in the small coffeehouse beside the school grounds, on a round table near the corner. Will was talking about something, sipping his drink as he glanced around the room for a brief second.

Sampson thought nothing of it, until he choked.

Nox slapped his back, probably a wee bit too hard, which made Will curse and glare. "You okay, man?"

"Y-Yeah," He coughed, and staring at something across the room.

Sampson followed his gaze to see two people sitting down at a table near them. One, a tall man, seemingly not older than eighteen, dressed in all monochrome. He looked like he walked straight out of a photo, with pale skin and dark hair to match his clothes.

The girl with him was the complete opposite. Dark skinned, with waves of brown curls half up with a sparkling clip on the back of her head. Her eyes were faint shade of green, a pretty colour.

"Do they look familiar to you??" Sampson asked, turning his head back to his friends.

Nox glanced at him. "They go to the schoolhouse, Will's fancied Adelaid since he started there."

"I do not fancy her!" Will snapped out of his trance from staring at the girl, who seemed uncomfortable around the man - Sampson could see why, the man just seemed...off.

Sampson shrugged, going back to the journal he was doodling in. "No ones gonna judge you if you fancy someone, mate -" He paused - "But it is kinda funny."

Will pouted, picking a chunk from his muffin and throwing it at him across the table before laughing.

Unconsciously, Sampson pulled out the leather necklace that he hid under his shirt - the ring Drest had given him and the iron ring hung on it - and started fiddling with it as he sketched.

"What's that?" Will asked, frowning and his mouth full of muffin.

He quickly hid it again under his shirt. "Nothing," He laughed nervously.

Sampson wasn't sure he should tell anybody he was getting gifts, or even associating, with a strange boy in the woods. That might've been hard to explain.

Curiously, Sampson felt eyes on him, which was normal at this point. Though when he briefly glanced around the room, the monochrome man was staring at the leather necklace peaking out from under his shirt.

As soon as Sampson had looked, the man had looked away, and he was left with an almost aching feeling at the pit of his stomach.

❦

They didn't make thirty feet out the coffeehouse before the aching feeling washed over Sampson again.

He tried not to look behind them as they continued walking. "Who's that man that was with Adelaide, was it?"

"Jackson Argyros," Nox said, "Priests son. Why?"

"Don't look, but I think he's right behind us."

And Will, like an idiot, looked.

"Oh shit, they are!" He cursed, throwing his arm around their shoulders trying to act natural.

Sampson gnawed at the inside of his cheek. "You think he's allowed in the woods?"

Will laughed. "'Course not! His father won't let him go near the place, preaches there's Faeries and shit."

"Good," He dared look behind him for a second, only to see the man and the girl, Adelaide, walking away through the crowed. He caught Adelaide's eye before they disappeared. "Can you walk me home?"


End file.
